


Scenes From a Practically-Marriage

by Zinnith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Insecurity, M/M, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinnith/pseuds/Zinnith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney never really expected them to have <i>less</i> sex these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes From a Practically-Marriage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sgamadison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/gifts).



> Birthday gift for sgamadison! _Written for the prompt: Rodney worrying that John is becoming bored with him because hot sex has dropped off to two or three times a week instead of every time they can get their hands on each other._
> 
> the_cephalopod is, as usual, my beta-hero.

DADT becomes history with surprisingly little fuss. Nothing much changes on Atlantis, even though Rodney is scared to death the first time he holds John's hand in public. But not many people are surprised, and if there are those who disapprove, they keep their feelings to themselves.

It's simply a matter of putting in the open what most of the base has known for years. They can share their quarters now instead of sneaking between rooms at stupid o'clock in the morning. They don't have to hide when they feel like necking like teenagers on a balcony somewhere (even if John always flinches and blushes bright red if someone should surprise them). John doesn't have to wait until the lights are out when he wants to grope Rodney during movie night. Rodney doesn't have to conceal his fear when John is off doing something crazy and suicidal.

For the most part, life goes on as usual. Rodney drives John crazy by leaving his wet towels on the floor. John drives Rodney crazy by blaring his music too early in the mornings. They play prime, not prime to pass the time. They build a pretty awesome track for the remote controlled cars in a seldom used corridor in the lower levels (it has bridges and ramps and even a _loop_.) They have silly arguments over stupid things; Rodney shouts and John punches the walls and once in a while security has to knock on the door to make sure they're not killing each other. They make up afterwards, tangled together in bed, covering each other in touches and kisses and promises of always, _always_.

* * *

It was always rushed in the beginning. Too little time, too much to do. It was almost a month before they even ended up in _bed_ together, and Rodney remembers the time after that with much fondness. Being with John was like a new exciting science project where he just kept discovering new things. He found out that while John will never object to a quickie in a closet somewhere, what he _really_ likes is long, intensive nights of marathon sex, doing it over and over until they fall asleep, only to wake up a few hours later to do it all again.

Rodney learned that just a hint of teeth in that spot where John's jaw meets his ear will turn him on like nothing else. He learned that John prefers morning sex, being woken by a slow lazy blowjob (Rodney's coffee consumption doubled after that discovery and he still spent half the day yawning because he had to be up ridiculously early to have time for said blowjobs before John had to sneak out). He learned that John has a thing for Rodney's hands, and that fiddling with things in meetings, even if he's just twirling a pen around his fingers, means that sex will occur shortly _after_ the meeting.

Rodney has always liked making new discoveries. What worries him a little is what will happen when there are no new things to be learned, when they both know each other better than they know themselves, when there are no more surprises.

* * *

John still does stupid stuff and attempts to give Rodney heart attacks on a regular basis. It's not quite as often these days though. He has learned to delegate, to let his people take a little of the weight off his shoulders. John's first principle of command has always been not to ask anything of his men that he won't do himself (with the exception of paperwork, which he will hoist off on Lorne with no shame whatsoever), but he's learned to acknowledge that as base commander there are some things he shouldn't do, that other people are more suited for. And, since every marine under John's command worships him, they're more than happy to lay their lives on the line in his stead. Of course, this won't stop John from haunting the control room for days on end, hardly eating or sleeping, anxiously waiting for his men to return.

It won't stop him from stepping in when he's needed either. When Captain Oakes' team are taken hostage by rebels on M54-221, John spends a week off-world. He returns covered in mud and blood and even worse things, bringing four limping, miserable marines, and one covered litter. Oakes later tells anyone who will listen that if it hadn't been for the Colonel, none of them would've made it back. John, for his part, won't stop beating himself up over that one lost life, not until Rodney takes him to bed and does his best to help, takes John apart with fingers and lips until all his anguish has bled out over the sheets and he lies spent and trembling in Rodney's arms.

Contrary to popular belief, John has never been stoic. That mask of indifference that he puts up has always been just a mask, a defence mechanism, a way for him to handle the emotions that burn underneath the surface, so much brighter and stronger than with other people. The intensity of his feelings, his rage, his grief, his happiness, is just too much for him. He needs that wall of carefreeness to act as a shield, or he would be destroyed.

Rodney attends every military funeral now. He thinks he owes it to them, especially when he stands there with the guilt burning like acid in his gut, insanely happy that it's not John in that coffin.

* * *

Rodney still gets caught up in his work, but these days he tries to make an effort to be out of the lab by six. Okay, seven. Maybe eight, if there's something interesting happening somewhere, which, granted, there almost always is. But he very rarely wakes up with keyboard marks on his face anymore, unless there's some kind of crisis going on, and even then he'd rather take his twenty minute naps in the bed that smells of John than sprawled over a lab bench.

His back really can't handle that anyway and he's probably getting a little too old for all-nighters unless they're absolutely necessary.

For some strange reason, the physics department seems to operate more smoothly with Rodney working something akin to normal hours. Things get done on time, the minions are less nervous (which might be because Rodney has to concentrate on his own work when he's in the lab and doesn't have time to loom over them and correct their math), there's less yelling and Miko's only burst into tears once in the past six months. At one unguarded moment, Simpson lets slip that she thinks Rodney is a better boss these days.

Contrary to popular belief, Rodney has never been unable to empathise. He knows he's petty and arrogant and bad with people, but the reason he's bad with people isn't because he doesn't _know_ how to get along. He knows just fine, it's just that other people are so annoyingly slow and stupid and he just never found anyone who was worth the trouble.

Not until John. And it's like, once he learned how to care about John, it's easier to care about other people. There's always been the team, of course, but even with them Rodney often felt like the odd man out. He'd half expected them to drift apart now that they don't go off-world together as often. Teyla decided she wanted to spend more time with her family and her people and Ronon has a lot more to do in Atlantis after John and Woolsey went against the wishes of the IOA and made him head of security. To Rodney's surprise, it didn't turn out that way. It's almost like they spend _more_ time together now and Rodney finds himself looking forward to the team dinners and the board games and the baby-sitting (even when TJ is the loudest, stickiest example of a five-year-old _ever_).

There are times when Rodney is a little surprised at how easy it is to shut his laptop at six, (Well, seven. Eight. Or just occasionally, eight thirty.) and leave the lab. Then again, it might have something to do with the man he's got waiting for him at home.

* * *

Being able to live with John is great in almost every way, except for one. Rodney never really expected them to have _less_ sex these days. It's been three days now, and while Rodney isn't more horny than usual, it feels like it's been a little too long.

"I'm going to bed," he announces, trying to strike a seductive pose. He doubts it's very successful because, well, he's forty-five. It's getting harder and harder to keep those extra pounds off, he's lost quite a lot of hair, and he's wearing a t-shirt washed so thin that there's barely anything left of it and a pair of boxers with a hole in the crotch. (He's been meaning to throw them out, really, but they're _comfortable_, the seams worn soft with age, and he likes to sleep in them. Besides, they're no worse than John's ratty old college-sweater with the suspicious stains.)

John looks up over the rim of the reading glasses that he refuses to wear in public. "'kay, I'm coming in a bit," he says. Then he goes back to the half-finished report he's been deeply engrossed in since he stepped through the door.

So Rodney goes to brush his teeth and then he goes to bed where he passes the time thinking back to those early days when they couldn't be alone together without jumping each other. Sometimes, Rodney is convinced that he spent their entire first year together with a John-induced hard-on, often from just being in the same _room_. There were blowjobs in supply closets, hand-jobs late at night in Rodney's lab when anyone could've walked in on them, crazy, adrenaline-fuelled bouts of breathless desperate sex that rarely seem to happen these days.

John joins him half an hour later, shuffling into the bedroom with half-lidded eyes. He yawns loudly, scratches his belly and crawls into bed. John leans over and places a kiss on his cheek.

"'Night," he mumbles, mashes his head into Rodney's shoulder, and promptly falls asleep.

Rodney lies awake for a while longer, wondering if this is it, if they have reached that point where routine has replaced discovery.

* * *

"You must talk to each other," Teyla tells him a few days later when they have lunch in the mess together and Rodney bares his sex-deprived heart. "No relationship can survive without communication."'

"Well," Rodney mutters, glaring up at her from where his face is buried in his hands. "We're _guys_. We're not very good at the communication thing. Especially not about... certain... stuff." He'll gladly whisper the filthiest things in John's ears when they're in bed together, but talk about their relationship? He's pretty sure he'd rather teach high school science.

Teyla raises her eyebrow and her look says, 'you-earthlings-frustrate-me-greatly-but-I-will-endure-because-you-amuse-me'. "I cannot see why that must be the case. Kanaan often..."

"La, la, la," Rodney interrupts, slamming his hands over his ears. He won't deny that he had certain thoughts when he first got to know Teyla, at least until his rational mind whacked him over the head and told him '_way_ out of your league'. Anyway, Teyla is a mom now and she's married, and is the closest thing Rodney has to a sister in this galaxy, and he doesn't want to discuss her sex life any more than he wants to discuss Jeannie's.

Teyla ignores him. "If you are worried about this, Rodney, you need to tell him. Maybe John feels the same way you do?" she says, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. "You know he will not be the first to say anything."

"And what makes you think he'll say anything even if I do?" Rodney groans, folding forward over the table to rest his head on his arms. "This is John Sheppard we're talking about. I think you've met him, he's always 'fine'."

"So if you feel that the novelty of your relationship is gone, maybe you need to add just that element again?" Teyla says. There's a wicked little grin playing around the corner of her mouth. "Surprise him."

Hmmm. The thought is worth some consideration. Rodney eats his dessert pondering the various ways he could surprise John.

* * *

"Do you want to tie me up?" Rodney blurts out on impulse. They just had sex (extremely good sex, orgasms all around, no complaints there), and John is coming back from the bathroom, cleaned up and dressed in fresh sleepwear.

That's another thing Rodney misses, lying together afterwards, sticky and sweaty and gross, too spent to get out of bed to clean up. It used to happen all the time. He has to admit though, there are nicer ways to wake up than glued together by dried semen and, well, John is hairy and on a few occasions there were almost tears.

John freezes just as he's about to crawl back into bed. "Um," he says, looking like someone just ambushed him with a hug. "I don't know. Do you want me to?"

Rodney thinks about it. He can't seem to work up much enthusiasm for the prospect. "No, not really," he admits, holding back a shudder. "I have very sensitive skin and rope burns are just... no."

"Oookay." John raises an eyebrow, clearly wondering if Rodney has gone crazy. As a matter of fact, Rodney is beginning to wonder if Rodney has gone crazy. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Teyla and he makes a mental note to build TJ some extremely noisy toys as revenge.

"Never mind," Rodney mumbles, turning over so John won't see his furiously blushing face. "Forget it, just pretend I didn't say anything, okay?"

"Well," John drawls, climbing under the covers. "If you _want_ me to, I probably could..."

"No, god no," Rodney moans into the pillow. "It was just an extremely stupid thought and I blame the fact that prolonged exposure to you must be killing of my brain cells."

John curls up behind Rodney, wrapping one arm around his waist. "Love you too, McKay," he says, and Rodney can hear the smile in his voice, the bastard.

* * *

Rodney remembers his parents' wedding picture clearly. It always fascinated him, even when he was very young, because the people in the picture were so completely different from his actual mom and dad.

In the picture, Rodney's parents were looking deep into each other's eyes and smiling like they're the only two people in the world. Rodney's mom was beautiful and his dad was handsome and they looked so happy and in _love_.

Rodney's real mom and dad were not in love anymore. The things he remembers most about them are the arguments, the sharp little barbs meant to hurt, the mind games and the martyr complexes and the 'staying together for the kids'. (Rodney _despises_ parents who stay together for the kids. What kid would want to be the reason for their mom and dad being miserable?)

He wonders what happened. When did the happy couple in the picture turn into the condescending man and the bitter woman who raised him?

Rodney can't remember ever having seen his parents kiss each other, or hug, or even touch. There were no displays of affection in the McKay household, just a cold war growing colder every day.

Whatever happened to his parents, Rodney doesn't want it to happen to him and John.

* * *

Teyla's advice didn't work out so well, so Rodney decides to try his luck and ask Ronon instead. He grabs a few snacks and goes to knock on Ronon's office door. Ronon only picked out an office because Woolsey insisted and he goes there when he wants to be alone. Rodney has learned to bring baked goods when he visits. It holds back the most deadly glares.

Ronon is working on some kind of report and he's muttering to himself about stupid English letters while Rodney munches on a muffin and attempts to tell Ronon about his problems..

"... and now it's been _days_ again. I mean, I get I'm not exactly the picture of male perfection and he could do a lot better than _me_, but..."

"Don't you have anywhere to be, McKay?" Ronon growls over the edge of his laptop. "Some of us have work to do."

"Oh, _please_, like anyone reads those things anyway," Rodney exclaims, rolling his eyes.

"Woolsey does."

"What, he _does_? Seriously?" Rodney shakes his head. "Stop distracting me. We were talking about important things if you remember?"

"You were talking, McKay."

Rodney slumps in the chair, reaching for another muffin. "Do you think he's getting tired of me? You know him, he'd never say anything if he were. He'd just suffer in silence until he started to hate me and then I'd have to hate him back and we'd do mean things to each other and it would end in a tragedy."

Ronon gives him a long steady look. "No," he says.

"No? Would you care to elaborate?"

There's another look. Ronon is very good at looks. "No."

"Because I was thinking, you hang out with him all the time, and he never said anything to you? Maybe something he let slip, you know like, 'oh, by the way, McKay is boring me to death and I want to trade him in for someone younger and hotter'?"

Ronon sighs and pushes the laptop aside, leaning forward in his seat. "Relax. If he was getting tired of you, you'd know it."

"But," Rodney stutters. "But I'm... I'm losing hair and I'm getting fat and he's..."

"You don't look so bad," Ronon interrupts. "More working out and less muffins and you don't have anything to worry about. Now leave me alone, I gotta finish this."

"Why do all your solutions involve exercise?" Rodney asks, getting out of the chair. He _knows_ he should work out more but he never has time for it. Ronon keeps bringing up the subject and Rodney keeps feeling guilty about it.

"Get out," Ronon rumbles, turning his attention back to his computer screen.

"Well, thank you. I will be sure to take some time out of my extraordinarily busy day the next time you're in need of advice."

Ronon throws the last muffins at him and Rodney flees.

A little later, Rodney takes the time to think about what Ronon said. Maybe the big guy does have a point? There's no denying that Rodney's gut is getting flabby and so is his ass. He doesn't worry all that much because, well, he's forty five and no one expects him to look like a teenager. But John is a year _older_ than him and he only looks better and better for every day. No extra pounds on him, no love handles or double chins. John is _hot_ while Rodney is barely lukewarm, and maybe he should do something about that if he wants to keep John's interest.

Rodney picks a time when he knows the gym will be empty. All right. Exercising. What first? Rodney grabs a handful of belly and studies it like he could glare the flab into submission. Seems like a good place to start. So, is there an easy ten-step way to rock-hard abs? The marines seem to be very fond of doing crunches so Rodney figures he should give it a try.

He lies down flat on his back and bends his knees, trying to figure out how this is supposed to be done. He knows he should be using his stomach muscles to pull himself upright but he suspects the lack of said muscles might present a problem. Maybe he just needs a bit of a push to get going.

Rodney braces himself, jerks his upper body from the floor and ow, ow, owowowowow OW!

* * *

"What were you thinking?" John asks, slowly rubbing his thumb over the side of Rodney's neck, the only spot on his body that doesn't hurt.

Rodney whimpers. He can't think of any words strong enough to convey the pain. Even after the muscle relaxants Jennifer gave him, he feels like a knotted up ball of torture. He can't even speak without sobbing.

"It's not that I don't think it's a good thing that you decided to start working out," John continues. "But it's been months since you last went to the gym. And without warming up or anything, you practically set yourself up to get hurt."

"Rnnnn," Rodney moans, eyes clenched shut. His nose itches and he desperately wants to scratch it, but even thinking about moving makes his back erupt in agony.

"What?" John leans closer. "Ronon? Yeah, you could've asked him to help you out, you know he'd be happy to."

"Nnnno. G'nna _kill_ h'm." Against better judgement, Rodney clenches his fist and hits the mattress. White lights explode behind his eyelids and he can feel burning tears running down his cheeks. It hurts so, so much. Teyla can say whatever she wants, childbirth has _nothing_ on this.

"Hey, come on buddy, it's gonna be all right." John's soothing voice slides past the sensation of hot blades stabbing into Rodney's spine. The soft touches are not letting up, giving Rodney something to focus on beside the pain. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere until you're better."

* * *

It takes several weeks before Rodney is up for sex at all and the irony is killing him. What's worse, he can't even complain to John because John would never let him hear the end of it. Rodney can just imagine the conversation. 'That's right dear, I put my back out in my attempts to become more attractive so you would want to have hot sweaty monkey sex with me again, and as a result, I am now at day seventeen and counting of highly involuntary celibacy.' Then, John would probably give himself a stroke from laughing and Rodney would have to spend the rest of his life changing adult diapers.

Even the thought of being touched is enough for Rodney's back to start spasming again. That's not the big problem. What _really_ bugs him is that John doesn't seem to mind.

Before routine settled in and put a damp blanket over everything, they could hardly wait until the infirmary stays were over. The time Rodney broke his ankle on MX3-121, John snuck in behind Carson's back one night, slid a hand under Rodney's blanket and jerked him off right there in the infirmary while Rodney chewed on his fist to keep from crying out.

And then there was that time when Rodney got electrical burns all over his palms and he couldn't touch anything without wanting to burst into tears. The moment he was released back to his room, John had Rodney flat on his back in bed, sucking him down into that tight hot throat, licking his balls, teasing orgasm after orgasm from him until he didn't even care about the pain anymore.

Now, John fetches Rodney's painkillers, and carefully rubs his neck, and makes sympathetic noises when Rodney complains over stiff muscles, but the idea of a little sexual healing doesn't seem to have entered his mind at all.

* * *

Mr Woolsey is rather adamant about enforcing Rest day, the one day every month when no-one is allowed to do any work that's not absolutely necessary. There are a minimum amount of people on-duty and the scientists are to stay out of their labs. Rodney used to hate Rest day, but he's beginning to warm up to it now that he can spend it together with John.

It's a beautiful day. Teyla and Kanaan are on New Athos and John and Rodney have agreed to watch TJ to let them have some time to themselves. The morning has been filled with car racing and hide-and-seek and right now they're having a picnic lunch at the pier where people are basking in the sun and swimming. A bunch of marines are playing volleyball and Rodney keeps an anxious eye on them in case the ball should go somewhere it's not supposed to go, like the back of Rodney's head.

TJ is playing with Ronon in the water, the five-year-old already swimming like a fish, while John and Rodney are lying stretched out on the blanket, digesting their lunch and trying to figure out if the little guy or the big guy is having the most fun.

The sun is warm. Rodney decides to rest his eyes of a moment and wakes up a little later to find John looking down at him with the strangest little smile on his face.

"What?" he yawns. "Do I have something stuck between my teeth or what? Did TJ draw on me while I was napping? Come on, Sheppard, what's wrong?"

John just shakes his head, still smiling. "Nothing's wrong, Rodney."

"So why are you staring at me like I grew a second head? Did you go and give yourself another concussion when I wasn't watching? Seriously, Ronon needs to get into his well-insulated head that you're not _twenty_ any more..." Rodney trails off because John is watching him with so much fondness that he's beginning to feel fuzzy inside.

"I'm just... happy, I guess", John murmurs. "Never thought I'd be able to have this with you."

Rodney isn't sure what to answer, so he goes for his default, which is sarcasm. "What, an adopted nephew and a picnic basket?" There's no real bite to the words.

There's another head shake from John and his smile doesn't wane. The sun reflects off the silver in his hair and the laugh lines around his eyes look even deeper than usual. He looks relaxed and happy and _beautiful_ and Rodney is struck by the sudden urge to lick every inch of him.

"A life, Rodney," John says, reaching out over the sun-warmed blanket to grab Rodney's hand, fingers strong and calloused against Rodney's skin.

Rodney blinks. He never quite thought of it that way, but suddenly he realises how much of a difference all this has to make to John. Not having to hide away his true self, not having to sneak and lie and make up excuses, not having to spend every second looking over his shoulder, worrying about his career.

And that's when Rodney finally gets it. For John, the sex is not the most important part. He could have all the sex he wanted anyway. Sex is nothing new. But _this_ is special. Being able to spend an afternoon on the pier with his partner, his friends and his colleagues. Being Colonel John Sheppard, loving Dr Rodney McKay and being loved in return, without shame or fear.

It's a _crime_ that it had to take so long to make it possible.

John's eyes are bright and he's still smiling and Rodney just has to crawl over and kiss him. Ten months ago, John would have protested, embarrassed to have such a private moment witnessed. Today, he closes his eyes, and just melts into the kiss with a content little sigh, completely ignoring the catcalls from the marines and the unison '_Awwwww_' from the gaggle of sunbathing xeno-biologists nearby.

The kiss lasts forever and not nearly long enough. When they have to come up for air, they're both panting slightly, locked in each other's gazes like nothing else exists.

"I want you," Rodney says. "I want you really bad right now, and I think we should leave TJ with Ronon and go back to our room so I can do filthy things to you. And then I think we should go and have dinner and then I want to go back home and do it all over again. I have, seriously, I have this long list of things I want to do to you, and I want to do all of them tonight."

It's John's turn to blink and swallow. His eyes have gone very dark and his mouth is open and slack and a little swollen from the kiss. "I like the sound of that," he says and there's a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Just for the record, how long exactly is this list of yours? Because I might have one too and I doubt we'll have time for all of it in one night."

Rodney shrugs and begins to struggle to his feet, not releasing his hold on John's hand. "So we'll just have to continue tomorrow night. What are we waiting for, Colonel? Chop chop, lets go!"

So they leave TJ with Ronon and half an hour later John is straddling Rodney's hips and slowly sliding down his cock. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, his pupils are widely dilated and he looks so utterly destroyed with lust that Rodney can't help himself, he has to grip John's hips and fuck up into John's slick hole, thrusting over and over until he comes so hard he blacks out for a moment.

Later, Rodney licks his own come out of John's ass while he slowly jerks Johns cock and listens to the various delicious sounds John makes and it's _amazing_, exhilarating and familiar and brand new all at the same time.

John is sore and smirking the next day and Rodney walks around in a happy daze. The sex was without doubt the best they've had in months, but Rodney's happiness can mostly be derived from the fact that they have a _life_ together, and it's possibly the biggest thing that's ever happened to Rodney too.

* * *

Rodney leaves the lab several hours later than he'd planned. It's been a busy week and the minions seem to have lost all capacity for independent thought and he's just _wiped_.

John's already in bed by the time Rodney comes home. The lights are off and John's latest Russian brick is on the nightstand on his side of the bed. John apparently got tired of waiting for Rodney to come home.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, pulling off his shirt and letting it drop to the floor. "I had to stop Clarkston and Levi from creating a rift in space-time. It was just on paper but still, can't have that kind of sloppy work."

"What, like in Torchwood?" John asks, muzzily turning his head on the pillow. "Pick that up, I don't want to trip over it."

"No, _that_ rift is just a convenient plot generator." Rodney winces as he bends down to retrieve his shirt and drape it over a chair instead. "_This_ rift would've destroyed several universes. But it's okay, armageddon averted. They won't do it again."

"Good," John mumbles into the pillow.

Rodney goes to wash up and brush his teeth and when he crawls into bed, John is a warm pliant mass of drowsy Colonel. "You smell good," Rodney says, nuzzling his neck.

John shifts sleepily and turns his head to let Rodney brush his lips over a stubbly cheek. "You wanna?" he murmurs, squirming his hips.

Rodney considers this. He's not completely opposed to the thought, but he's tired and his back aches a little and his cock seems to be pretty happy where it is, nestled half-hard against John's warm ass. He settles in and wraps his arm around John's waist. "Maybe later," he says. "Sleep now."

"Mhmm," John responds. He melts into Rodney's arms and drops off almost immediately.

Rodney closes his eyes and buries his face in John's shoulder, contentedly drifting into sleep. They will have a day tomorrow, and the day after that, and many many more days to come.

\- fin -


End file.
